


A Song of the Gods

by VegabondGloria



Series: Of Chaos and Deities [3]
Category: Odin Sphere
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Dancing, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VegabondGloria/pseuds/VegabondGloria
Summary: Gods often disguise themselves to enjoy parties with humans. It's even better when two gods throw themselves into the mix.





	

She dances across the floor of the tavern in a whirl of black and crimson silk. Her skirt with open slits flares out and exposes long calves wrapped in thin straps while golden bracelets jingle delicately and almost overpower the zils of the tambourine in her hands. Her golden hair sways in tune with the music and her face is alight with a beautiful smile.

The men and women call her the incarnation of a goddess. Cornelius knows the truth and sits in the back with lips curved upwards.

His emerald hood is up to hide his discolored rabbit ears and he casually sips beer from a wooden cup. He watches the goddess-in-disguise twirl and sing, bringing everyone around her into splendid uproar of celebration and zest.

He wants to join her, he wants to sing tales of their people and human heroes with her, but he remains quiet and reserved. He may be of the same race as her, but he is a very gentle thing. He spends his days herding sheep and conversing with the Brownie Mice. He tames the winds and offers bright sunshine and a pleasant breeze to traders on the road.

He is not built for parties. He is not built to join her and her energy.

But he glanced in the wrong direction at the wrong moment. Her violet eyes meet his silver and stare into them, see them, as she continues her hip sways and elegant gestures. He panics as she moves towards him, briefly leaving the center of her organized chaos to trot over and offer a hand to him.

“Shall we dance, shepherd?” She asks, her gaze falling upon the staff with hollow blue gourds hanging from the curl at the top.

 Cornelius gulps and takes her hand. He can’t say no.

He is pulled into the twister she created, red-clad feet moving awkwardly in his initial struggle to enter the rhythm. “I don’t dance much,” he confesses and she laughs as she taps her tambourine against her thigh with her free hand.

 _Relax, let go. Become free._ He hears her whisper in his mind.

The men and women around them cheer as he becomes part of the dance’s core. Always holding her by one hand, Cornelius is soon grinning and he laughs in a warm, hearty manner. His cape is a cloud behind him; it frames him, much like her gold and red ribbons. They look less like humans and more like spirits.

They are unnatural and ethereal—the patrons of the tavern call them both gods and they’re not wrong. They’ll never know, though. Humans do not learn the identity of a god unless it’s revealed to them willingly.

The music reaches a climax—the goddess throws back her head and her spine bends back. Cornelius, knowing his role, supports her and keeps her from falling completely to the floor. He brings her back up and they do one last twirl. As they slide into their finishing pose, the tavern erupts in loud screaming and hollering.

Cornelius feels the sweat dripping down his face and stares at the woman in his arms. She is breathing heavily and her skin glistens, but her happiness is golden and she giggles.

“Thank you so much.”

They later walk down the street of the little town—in this kingdom, it’s a center of the arts and the columns supporting the public houses and villas of the rich are carved with images from human history. Oswald’s moon shines down on them and they converse softly without drawing attention to themselves.

Despite that the dance was so long ago, Cornelius’s heart is thumping. The goddess told him her name—he’s now shy and rather humble knowing what seat she holds with their people.

But Velvet looks at him like any old friend and she touches her bare stomach, having already complained that the waitress mixed her order of grapes and sliced chicken with salmon. She still ate it, but evidently it was a bad choice.

“It seems that you are as your disciples whisper in their tomes,” she says this while rubbing her belly in gentle motions. “A very kindhearted man who loves humanity as much as you love your flock.” She looks down the street. A fox with beautiful orange fur sits there waiting for her and she frowns unhappily.

“Is that Vini, your follower?” Cornelius asks. Velvet’s reply is grumpy.

“Yes, and based on the look he’s giving me, it looks like something happened with _him_ again.” She shakes her head. “I apologize, but I need to leave.”

The god’s heart sinks. Velvet is already running to the fox. She, however, turns to him. Her eyes are glowing and she hits her tambourine.

“Come visit me in the Oasis of Lyssa in two sunrises. We can share another dance if you desire!”

He smiles and snaps his fingers. The wind that ruffles her hair carries his answer.

“It would be my honor.”


End file.
